The Devil’s Mercy
by 104amysue
Summary: A moment of Damon and Elena and their high-powered, uncontrollable, and indescribable attraction to one another.


It's pitch black. It's as if a velvet curtain soaked in darkness cloaks all vision and shrouds all senses. Elena can see nothing, Her eyes only encounter blankness. Pure nothingness that is devoid of the slightest hint of anything existing other than her own consciousness. But she _can_ hear. She can hear so distinctly it's almost like she can _feel_ the teensiest of sounds. There's no doubt in her mind that the deliberate yet slow and steady padding of footsteps approaching her belong to Him. She knows it because she feels it. She feels it way down deep into the marrow of her very bones. She knows it's him by the way each telling pulse of her heart beats heavier than it's ever beat in her life. Each slow forceful thud in her chest makes her feel so alive. It's a feeling that is too frightening to seek out, yet too seductive to resist.

The sudden familiar scratch of a match scrapes out from behind her causing her to whip around in such a quick and abrupt manner it reveals the anxious state of her nerves. No one is there. Only a small flickering of a flame that is little by little bursting out to devour the logs. She doesn't see him. Nevertheless, she feels him there just the same. She doesn't know why, nor how, but His very presence is saturating the air, touching her skin, permeating her lungs. She was happily drowning in Him the moment he entered the room. He walks in and lights the fire with just a match and one flick. She turns around and he ignites her blood with just his eyes and one look. One look that sends an electric jolt straight to the center of her whole world. His dramatic approach instantly electrifies the atmosphere like always, and as her body seems to absorb his magnetizing intensity right out of the air, she can do nothing but revel in it.

Damon.

It's the only word, only thought, only concept that defines her reality at that very moment. He is a force of nature. The stark appearance of him and of his face holds such power. A form a power that is simply phenomenal in quality and in ability. He looks at her in a way that grips her by the seat of her pants. How is it that he can so easily pierce the shields that have kept her grounded against all others? She doesn't want to risk safe and sound for wild and free. Be that as it may, shr finds such pleasure in it. He gives her what she doesn't want and she's somehow left feeling completely satisfied despite everything. Why can he get to her like no one else can? He is such a rush.

"Mmm..."

Elena all but purrs standing mere inches from his face. She could not stop herself from releasing the unfamiliar sound, nor the unfamiliar yet intrinsic urges she's experiencing along with it. It flowed out from somewhere deep within her like an involuntary reaction to the forceful feeling from the pit if her gut. It was raw. primal. Intimate. It was utterly and undeniably intimate.

And for once, Elena doesn't care. As much and as hard as she has tried to fight for control against her emotions, this time the feelings are too strong, too powerful. It frightens her. It seduces her.

The instant she makes that sound, Damon simultaneously loses and takes control. As if by magic, in one blink Elena and Damon are on a chair. He's wearing nothing but blue jeans and she's in just her God given skin. She sits on Damon's lap with his bare chest pressing hard against her warm back. He's wrapped each of his legs around each of hers and is effectively pinning each ankle keeping her legs spread fully apart. His left arm holds both of her arms behind her back along with a fistful of hair keeping her head back and neck exposed. His right hand is splayed out flat on her stomach, his mouth is at her ear. She's never been more helpless than she is in this moment. And she has never been more aroused. Elena's chest is panting heavily as each deep breath makes its harsh impact. She hears him lick his lips against her ear and the sound reverberates all the way down between her legs where it focuses passionately on one area creating a second heavy heartbeat. Each delicious pulse is harder than the one before.. If she could move her head to look down she'd bet good money the throbbing would be visible. She is his in every way. The nights is infused with what's wicked and drenched in pure sin. It's more than she can stand and yet she'll never get enough. This indescribable feeling, this palpable moment, it bleeds nothing but emotion, it breathes nothing but desire. They can taste the mist of passion that clouds around their anxious bodies. His fangs and fingers lie in wait, hovering, as her neck and groin pulse in anticipation. She is dripping wet for him and entirely at his mercy. The devil's mercy...


End file.
